


A Different Breed

by KnightHowl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Non-Canon Origin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 21,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightHowl/pseuds/KnightHowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She only joined the Wardens to get the Templars off her back. Now she's stuck on a mad quest to stop the Blight with an ex-Templar trainee who doesn't like her overmuch, a fellow apostate who spends most of her time either alone or pestering the Templar, and an overly friendly Chantry sister who is definitely hiding something. Oh, and an absolutely massive dog named Bear. </p>
<p>Suffice to say, Kitra is not a happy woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to leave this here so maybe I'll finally stop rewriting it over and over.

It was a miscalculation on her part. She had estimated that the darkspawn, based on the strength of their scent and spread of their corruption, would be a fair distance to her south and she could easily pass them by. However, that was not the case and, as she buried a genlock’s crude axe in its own head, she resolved to avoid such errors in calculation next time in addition to not spending more than a few days in a place infested by darkspawn.

The remainder of the filthy creatures were pressing in on her, trying to corner her against the rocky hillside at her back. She was having none of it. The nearest hurlock received an electrically charged punch to the face while a few genlocks to her left began to spasm and sizzle when the lightning from her other hand hit them.

"Gotcha, you little-" there was a dark, primal laugh behind her as a blade bit into her back. “Shit!" She whipped around ready to strike at the last of the darkspawn only to watch as a dark-haired man relieved the final hurlock of its head.

"Are you alright, miss?" asked the man as he sheathed his blades and took a step toward her, stopping his advance when she took one step back in response.

She let out a grunt of pain as pulled the dagger from her back and tossed it aside. “Peachy," she said dryly as she reached one hand around her back to feel the wound. Not terribly deep, didn’t hit anything vital, hurt like a son of bitch. By the time she’d brought her hand back to rest at her side, the wound was already half-healed. “Now if you don’t mind, Ser, I’ll just be going."

"Actually," he said as he surveyed the area around them, which was littered with a good number of darkspawn corpses, “I have a proposition for you."

"Whatever it is, the answer is no," said the woman flatly, crossing her arms.

He ignored her. “You are a mage and you show skill in defeating darkspawn. The Grey Wardens could use someone like you in our ranks."

"Right," she drawled. “Why ask me when you have plenty of mages at the old fortress?" She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just looking to turn me in to the Templars."

The man shook his head. “No. As the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, I am sincere in my offer, Miss-?"

"No ‘miss’, just Kitra," she supplied. “And why, Ser Warden, should I accept an invitation into your order?"

"An apostate such as yourself may be interested to know that Warden mages are exempt from the scrutiny of the Chantry and its Templars." The Warden knew he had her by the way she completely froze for a moment, eyebrows arched and grey eyes wide.

"Truly?" she asked, quickly recovering her composure.

"I would not lie about such a matter."

"You got a name, Warden?" Kitra asked suddenly.

"Commander Duncan of the Grey," he supplied.

"Then I accept your proposal, Duncan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	2. Your King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short because I really hate writing what I consider "the boring parts" - and this is one of them. Hopefully the next chapters will be longer.

Upon reaching Ostagar the next morning, Kitra and Duncan were greeted by a man in polished golden armor who was followed by a small personal guard. He directed most of his conversation toward Duncan, for which Kitra was grateful.

She didn't bother to listen closely to their conversation, instead occupying herself with looking at the weathered architecture of the old fortress. Living in the Wilds, she'd seen Ostagar from a distance before, but never this close or from such an angle. She felt dwarfed by the massive columns and tall arches.

Kitra returned her attention to the conversation when it seemed to be nearing its end, with the man in golden armor wishing for a war "like in the tales". He either did not hear or ignored her muttered comment about those tales going far more badly in written history than in the stories woven by minstrels.

"That man is your king?" Kitra inquired as soon as the man and his guard were gone.

"He is also yours," said Duncan, "but yes."

Kitra furrowed her brows at the notion that the man in gold was _her_ king. She owed her allegiance to no one and rather liked it that way.

Duncan gestured for them to walk, and so she walked with him across the bridge to the camp that lay within the main body of the ruins. As they walked, he briefed her on the situation. When they neared the camp, he bought up the subject of the Joining.

"So there's more to this than just picking me out, slapping some griffon-emblazoned armor on me, and sending me off into battle?" she asked dryly.

"Yes, and we shall start immediately. There is another Grey Warden in the camp, a young man named Alistair. Find him and bring him to the bonfire at the camp's center."

With that, they parted ways, with Duncan heading to the camp's center to speak with a gathered group of soldiers and Kitra wandering off into the camp in search of a young man with a griffon somewhere on his armor who answered to the name Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize (again) for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	3. The New Recruit

As she wandered the camp, Kitra passed by an infirmary and the camp's prison cages where the lone occupant of the cages called out to her. When he begged for food, she handed him a strip of jerky produced from one of the pouches at her belt and went on her way. After that, she encountered the camp's quartermaster and managed to convince him to buy a few potions and poisons that she had on her person. She left him with lighter belt pouches and a fuller purse before continuing to the kennels. She thought to ask the men there if they knew of an Alistair because she had been wandering about for at least an hour, but one of the dogs in the makeshift kennels drew her attention. 

He was a big creature, that she could tell even as he lay in the straw bedding. When she peered over the fence of his enclosure, he whined and looked at her pleadingly. 

Her curiosity - and, perhaps, sympathy for the obviously ill animal - piqued, she jumped the fence and knelt next to the dog, examining him with a critical eye. His coat was ragged and he was thinner than a dog his size should be. When she offered him a strip of jerky, he refused it, instead resting his head on her leg and looking up at her tiredly.

"Hey, what are you doing in there?" demanded one of the kennel workers, finally finished with his conversation with the other man, presumably another kennel worker.

"Don't question it, she's got him calm," said the other man as he joined his fellow in looking over the kennel fence at Kitra and the hound. "While you're in there, could you slip this on him? We need to get some medicine - if we can get our hands on some, that is - in him but he doesn't seem to like us much. His master was killed in the last battle and he's been uncooperative with us kennel hands ever since."

The second man held out a muzzle and Kitra took it, slipping it easily on the dog. 

"What sort of medicine does he need?" she inquired, petting the animal in question absently. "I'm something of a herbalist." She hated to admit it, but Kitra was rather starting to like the big dog and she'd only known him for mere minutes.

"We've got everything we need except for one ingredient: the Wilds Flower. It's got a red center with-", said the second kennel hand.

He was cut off as Kitra stood and walked to the fence, two flowers produced from one of her pouches held in her hand.

"That's them exactly!" He took the flowers from Kitra gratefully, handing her a bit of coin as well.

After giving the dog a farewell pat, Kitra jumped the fence again and went on her way.

It took a while longer, but Kitra finally found a candidate for the man she was looking for. He was young, had the Grey Warden griffon conveniently located on the shield strapped to his back, and was arguing with someone who appeared to be a Circle mage, if the robes and staff were anything to go by. Deciding not to interrupt, she leaned against a nearby column and watched the young man's back and forth with the mage.

"Would you happen to be Alistair?" she asked after the mage had stormed off.

"Yes, and who might you be?" he asked, none of his earlier wit from the conversation with the Circle mage present when he spoke with Kitra.

She thought for a moment. Did she want to introduce herself as a mage, given that the young Warden had just been in an argument with one, a Grey Warden recruit, or simply as Kitra? In the end, she gave him her name.

"Are you the new recruit from Highever?" he asked after taking a moment to really look at her as if he was attempting to figure out who he was really addressing.

Kitra shook her head. "I am not from Highever, but I suppose I am the new recruit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize yet again for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	4. I Don't Like Any of You People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel awful because other people who write BlightFic have like these crazy-long chapters and I can barely manage 500 words per chapter. :(

Grouped with a friendly, talkative thief; a suspicious knight who looked at her as if she had just grown an extra head as soon as it was mentioned that she was a mage; and Alistair the ex-Templar-turned-Warden who tended to side-eye her when he thought she wasn't looking, Kitra was certain that she would lose her mind before they gathered enough darkspawn blood and found the treaties. 

She had elected to scout ahead, in part because she was familiar with the Wilds; also because she couldn't stand another minute of the thief's flirting or the knight's tactless questions about whether or not she was a threat, some of which were directed at herself while others were directed at Alistair. She was able to lead them around a wolf pack, scavenging for food not tainted by the darkspawn, and into darkspawn territory, if the grotesque hanging soldier was anything to go by.

As they walked, they came upon what looked like a massacre of soldiers. Old blood stained the ground and bodies both darkspawn and human lay rotting. One of the bodies near them let out a rasping groan and a cough, causing their knight companion to emit a yelp and jump back.

Curious, Kitra managed to pick out the still-breathing human among the bodies and knelt next to him.

"He's not half as dead as he looks," commented Alistair as Kitra examined the man.

When Kitra's power sparked to life in her hands, she was stopped by an alarmed "Maker, woman! There's no need to fry him!" and a hand on her shoulder. She turned to Alistair, annoyance written all over her face. Behind him, she could see her other companions, wide-eyed and staring.

"I have no intention of 'frying him', as you so eloquently put it," she snapped irritably, the sparks on her hands retreating back into her skin at the interruption. "My magic always looks like that. It's my intent that determines whether I kill or heal." Kitra shook his hand off of her shoulder and her magic flared back to life.

She only half-heard Alistair's muttered remark about how no magic he knows of works like that as little sparks of her magic broke free from her fingers and entered the soldier's body, probing for wounds that she couldn't see. 

After Kitra did her best with his head wound and axe wound to the thigh, the soldier started to come back into full consciousness. As soon as he was sitting and able to talk, Alistair took over the situation, getting information from the soldier before sending him back to Ostagar. He was healthy enough to make it, Kitra made sure.

The soldier taken care of, they continued on their way, fighting a few small groups of darkspawn as they went deeper into their territory. Kitra had taken it upon herself to get the requested vials of darkspawn blood, slitting major arteries of the freshly dead with a long-bladed hunting knife and catching what dripped out. After the first two groups she had gathered the blood that Duncan had requested plus a bit for herself, to play with later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I apologize for my shitty writing and characterization skills. Yes this is going at the end of every chapter.


	5. The Lion in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeee.

In the heart of darkspawn territory, they found themselves in a sticky situation.

"Somebody get that mage!" yelped the thief as he skewered one attacking hurlock on his longsword and levered the hurlock into position to block a fireball from the mage.

"I'm a little busy," grunted Alistair as he bashed a pair of genlocks back with his shield and stabbed a third with his sword. More pressed in on him to fill the gap left by their fallen fellows.

The only response from the knight was a grunt as he swung his massive sword, relieving one hurlock of its head and nearly cleaving another completely in two on the down swing. He had to kick the body off of his blade.

"What about you, mage lady?" called the thief in Kitra's general direction. "Can't you hit it with one of your lightning bolts?"

"It's got a magic shield," replied Kitra just loudly enough to be heard over the din of battle. She grabbed two genlocks by the face and fried them. A hurlock came at her with an axe, but she took one hand off of a twitching genlock to zap the hurlock before it could get close enough to hit her. 

While she was distracted, a fireball exploded just to her left, catching one of her sleeves on fire. She put it out with a still-sparking hand.

"Will someone please kill that bloody mage!" The knight appeared to be getting frustrated; surrounded as he was, it was hard to swing that big sword of his.

"Since you asked so nicely," muttered Kitra under her breath as she took a step back from the darkspawn approaching her in the wake of the fireball. 

Her whole body began to spark and shift, taking on a new form.

A large, angry cougar bowled over two of the darkspawn that had been approaching Kitra before making a beeline for the mage. The beast was able to get through the darkspawn mage's shield and pin it to the ground.

With a shower of sparks and another shift of form, the cougar became Kitra. 

She pulled the hunting knife from her belt and slit the darkspawn's throat. Just for good measure, she stabbed it viciously between the eyes.

Their leader dead, the remaining darkspawn retreated into the woods to regroup.

As soon as they were gone, Alistair rounded on Kitra.

"What in the Maker's name was _that_?"

"That," explained Kitra as she leaned down to wipe her knife on the grass, "is one of my favorite tricks."

"Trick? You call that a _trick_?" demanded Alistair. "No normal mage can do anything like that! You're some sort of maleficar, making deals with demons to learn those tricks, aren't you? You have to be."

Kitra sheathed her knife before walking up to Alistair and hooking her fingers in the neck of his armor to pull him close. Angry grey eyes met equally angry hazel. "Call me maleficar if you wish, but do not accuse me of consorting with demons, _templar_." she spat. She then released him, shoving him away and going to scavenge the bodies of the darkspawn for anything interesting or useful.

"Her hair is sparking," commented the thief to the slack-jawed knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somethingsomething yes I have shitty characterization and writing skills and I apologize for that.


	6. Clever Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure if I actually want to keep this part. Oh well.

As the forest grew dark, they set up camp just outside the darkspawn territory. A dinner of soldier's rations was eaten over a small fire and the softest patches of grass available became their beds. Watches were agreed upon - the thief had first watch, Alistiar second, the knight third, and Kitra fourth.

Morning found Kitra up a tree, staring off into the distance and pointedly ignoring the three grouchy, dew-soaked men below. When they were ready to move on, she climbed down and took her place at the head of the group to lead them through the forest.

By mid-day, ruins were starting to become more frequent and they knew they were in the right place to find old treaties that Duncan sought.

"There should be some sort of marker around here somewhere," said Alistair as he searched through what was left of the main body of the ruins alongside the thief and the knight.

Kitra, searching a few yards away, stood atop a pile of tumbled stones and stared down at a symbol carved into one of the stones beneath her. "You're looking for a griffon, yes? I've got one over here."

The three men joined Kitra at the pile of stones.

"That's the Warden griffon, alright," said Alistair as he examined the stone Kitra had pointed out.

"I think it used to be part of an archway for this room." Kitra gestured to the area behind the pile. One wall still stood and two were in various stages of crumbling. The fourth wall could barely be called a wall at all, fragmented and only coming up to Kitra's knees at its highest. It was this wall to which the archway had once belonged.

"What, exactly, are we looking for?" asked the theif as he eyed the room. It contained very little, aside from debris and plants that sprouted up through the floor.  
Kitra stepped into the room, kicking leaf litter and what may have once been crates aside.

"Hey, don't do that! What if the treaties are buried in there? You might destroy them!" protested the knight.

"No, they'd be better protected than that," said Alistair as he too entered the room and began kicking aside the debris. "A magicked chest or-"

"A trapdoor?" interrupted Kitra as she kicked a particularly large debris pile out of her way, showering all three men with it. 

"Yes," grumbled Alistair as he picked dead leaves and what he hoped were the rotted splinters of an old crate from his hair.

"I think she did that on purpose," muttered the knight.

Kitra prodded the section of floor she had cleared with the toe of her boot. "Alright, because I think this is it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another apology for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	7. I Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is the same dialogue as in-game because I couldn't be bothered to come up with something new and I felt like I couldn't skip this part.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Kitra turned to face the newcomer. Behind her, Alistair removed his hands from the space beneath the trapdoor and stood while the knight and the thief also turned and their hands went to their weapons.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?"

The woman took a few steps toward them, causing all but Kitra to take a step back and their weapon hands to get twitchy over their blades.

"Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

The woman's golden eyes studied each of them in turn, finally coming to rest on Kitra.

"What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

"According to one of my current travelling companions, this used to be a Grey Warden tower. He, at least, is a Grey Warden and as such has every right to be poking around." Kitra crossed her arms under her chest, seeming significantly more relaxed than her companions in the presence of the strange woman.

"'Tis a tower no longer. The wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." The woman paused, her gaze never leaving Kitra. If the mage was unnerved by the scrutiny, she showed no outward sign.

"I have watched your progress for some time. Where do they go, I wondered. Why are they here? And now, you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her, she looks Chasind," cautioned Alistair quietly from behind Kitra. "And that means others may be nearby."

Obviously, the woman heard him because she seemed amused by the comment. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" 

"Yes, swooping is bad," retorted Alistair.

"She's a witch of the wilds, she is," chipped in the thief, who sounded worried at that revelation. "She'll turn us into toads!"

"Why would anyone waste energy on that?" Kitra wondered, mostly to herself. If anyone heard her, they didn't comment.

"Wich of the wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" The woman shook her head before turning her attention to Kitra yet again. "You there, I have seen you before. You are a mage and denizen of these wilds. You do not frighten so easily like the little boys you travel with. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"Kitra. My name is Kitra." 

"And I am Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that room, something that is here no longer?" asked the woman, Morrigan.

"Here no longer?" repeated Alistair. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of sneaky witch-thief!" 

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them." 

At the implied accusation that she had stolen the documents, Morrigan seemed annoyed. "I will not, for 'twas not I who took them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish, I am not threatened."

"Then who did remove them?" asked Kitra, stepping in in an attempt to defuse the situation brewing between Alistair and Morrigan.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Could you take us to her?" Kitra ignored the three sharp intakes of breath behind her.

"Hm. There is a sensible request. I like you." The corners of Morrigan's mouth twitched upward in the tiniest of smiles.

"I try," said Kitra with a shrug as she stepped over the crumbling wall to follow Morrigan.

"I'd be careful if I were you," muttered Alistair as he followed Kitra out of the room. "First it's 'I like you', but then zap - frog time."

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," said the thief worriedly.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it will be a nice change." It seemed as though the knight had finally either gotten accustomed to apostates or resigned himself to his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize further for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	8. Absolutely Necessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid short because I felt like I have to add this part even though it's boring as hell. Also I haven't decided whether or not I want to write the archdemon dream or cut to waking up so this seemed like a logical pause point.

After retrieving the treaties from Morrigan's mother, it took them another day and a half to get back to Ostagar. The joining was to be held immediately, and within the hour Duncan and Alistair had Kitra, the thief, and the knight grouped in what may have once been the fortress's chapel. On what Kitra supposed used to be the altar was a goblet with the Warden emblem carved on its surface.

A traditional speech was given by Alistair and Duncan told them of their fate. They were to drink the concoction in the goblet - the main component of which was the darkspawn blood they had collected on their journey.

While Kitra's fellow recruits made noises of disgust, shock, and horror, Kitra merely wrinkled her nose. She had briefly entertained the idea that they were going to have to drink the blood while they were collecting it, but given that it was fairly toxic to humans she had doubted that would be the case. Perhaps since it was magically treated, it wouldn't kill them.

However, when the thief was handed the goblet and took his sip of the foul brew, Kitra learned that it was, indeed, still capable of killing them. 

Kitra knelt to examine the thief's body while the knight reacted with fear. She ignored the sound of steel on steel behind her, followed quickly by a wet gurgle. When she heard the thud of a body hitting the ground, she looked over her shoulder.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" she asked as she stood. 

Duncan didn't answer her question, instead handing her the goblet.

She stared down into the goblet for a moment, briefly contemplating the liquid within. Then, she shrugged and took her sip.

As the concoction took its hold, Kitra's body went limp and she dropped like a stone, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have really shitty writing and characterization skills and I'm sorry for that.


	9. Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just trying to get Ostagar out of the way.

Kitra's eyes snapped open. A roar was still ringing in her ears and she couldn't quite comprehend her surroundings. She reacted instinctively to the threat from the vision brought on by the consumption of the substance in the goblet, lashing out at one of the figures above her.

She caught Alistair square in the jaw with her punch, sending the startled Warden sprawling backwards. He made an attempt to defend himself while not hurting Kitra, but found himself quickly overpowered and flat on his back with an angry Kitra still caught in the throes of her vision standing on her knees above him.

Just as she started to reach for her hunting knife, she found herself pulled up and off of Alistair before being shoved roughly into the altar. The pain served to pull her back into her senses; the subsequent slap to the face from Duncan was unnecessary and merely annoyed her.

"What in the name of the Maker was _that_?" Alistair picked himself up off of the ground, rubbing his jaw where Kitra's punch had landed.

"A nightmare," rasped Kitra. At the sound of her own voice, she looked momentarily surprised.

"You were screaming from the moment you woke up until Duncan threw you into the table," supplied Alistair at Kitra's expression. His tone and body language implied that he was annoyed with her; perhaps he expected an apology. 

Kitra was unlikely to give one. Instead, she shook her head as if to clear it of the remnants of her vision before leaning back against the altar and looking to Duncan. It seemed to Kitra as though nothing fazed the man - one recruit had dropped dead right in front of him, he had killed another in cold blood, the third recruit had attacked another Warden while in the throes of a darkspawn blood-induced nightmare, and through it all his composure never faltered.

Duncan briefly explained that Kitra was newly capable of sensing the darkspawn and handed her a trinket on a leather cord. 

It was Alistair who explained the trinket, twin metal griffons back-to-back with a goblet set over where their bodies joined. The goblet was made of some sort of crystal or glass set into the iron and filled with a dark red substance reminiscent of what Kitra had drank previously. According to him, the trinket was given to all new Wardens as a memento of the Joining ritual to remember those lost - and the crystal was indeed filled with the concoction from the goblet.

There was no rest for the wicked, it seemed, for Duncan ushered Kitra and Alistair to a meeting with the king where they were tasked with lighting a beacon at the top one of the tower Kitra had admired when she first came to Ostagar only a few days previous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	10. Ogres Are Gross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I yanked most of this from draft 4 but cut a lot of of the fighting because it was repetitive.

"Light the beacon, they said," grumbled Kitra. "It's a simple task, they said." She paused to fry the latest small group of genlock ascending the spiral stairs behind them. "Absolute horse shit."

"To be fair, I don't think anyone could have predicted this," said Alistiar with a grunt as he relieved a hurlock of its head before driving his sword deep into a genlock.

Instead of commenting further, Kitra pulled a lyrium potion out of the bag Duncan had supplied her with. She popped the cork and sneezed, scowling momentarily at the swirling blue liquid before tipping the contents of the bottle down her throat. Kitra generally avoided lyrium. For one, it made her sneeze. For another, once the potions ran their course and she ran out of them, she was likely to sleep for a week while her magic restored itself. 

They continued to climb, Kitra having to drink a few more lyrium potions along the way as they faced darkspawn from above and below. When they finally reached the top, they were met with a horrifying sight.

A great ogre turned its head to face them as they clattered up the final stairs. Bits of flesh and armor from someone who must have once guarded the tower covered the ogre's face and it carried a mostly-intact arm in one massive hand. It roared, spraying Alistair and Kitra - even half way across the room as they were - with bits of spittle, blood, and other sorts of things that Kitra didn't want to think about.

Next to Kitra, Alistair gagged and clapped a hand over his mouth and nose at the stench. Kitra merely grit her teeth and wrinkled her nose at the foul scent of death and darkspawn.

The ogre charged, causing Kitra and Alistair to scatter. Both managed to scramble out of the way in time and Alistair took advantage of the ogre's run-in with the wall to attack, carving a chunk out of the ogre's calf.

In retaliation, the ogre swiped at Alistair, knocking him off of his feet. Just as the ogre was moving to either pick him up or step on him - the ogre didn't seem to have decided on a course of action quite yet - Kitra zapped some of the softer parts of its leathery hide, causing it to turn its attention to her.

Angry at the application of lightning to the unprotected bits of its flesh, the ogre charged unsteadily at Kitra, favoring the leg that Alistair had attacked.

Kitra dove out of the way and the ogre impacted the wall again. By that time Alistair was up on his feet to continue to stab at the ogre.

In the end, a battered Alistair and exhausted Kitra stood victorious.

"Light the beacon, quickly. We've surely missed the signal," said Alistair tiredly as he leaned against some miraculously undamaged barrels. He was standing oddly, trying to keep most of his weight off of one leg - the one that the ogre had, at one point, hoisted him up by. It took a massive lighting blast from Kitra to get the ogre to drop him - the blast that killed the ogre, in fact.

Kitra stumbled to the fireplace-like structure used to light the beacon. She was completely drained and unable to even summon a spark to light the fire. With shaking hands, she pulled flint and steel from the small box next to the fireplace and lit the signal fire. As fire worked its way up the beacon, Kitra sat back and rubbed her temples. She could feel a pressure building behind her eyeballs and the constant buzz that marked the presence of the darkspawn got louder.

Just as she started to alert Alistair, an arrow sprouted from her shoulder. Stunned, her gaze travelled from the arrow protruding from her shoulder to the group of darkspawn in the doorway. She made an attempt to stand but fell. Nearby, she heard the clatter of an armored body hitting the ground. Alistair was down. 

She tried in vain to pull some tiny spark of magic from herself to use in her defense as another arrow pierced her body, this time in her side. Then, a heavy blow landed on the back of her skull and her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	11. One Option

Kitra was able to savor the feeling of a warm bed for just a moment before it occurred to her to wonder _why_ she was in a bed. The last place she remembered being was the top of that tower at Ostagar. Slightly alarmed, she sat up and looked around. 

A hut. She was in a hut, of all places. Her first guess would have been the infirmary at Ostagar. Second, the mage tower.

"Your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased," said a familiar voice. "As will your idiot friend. He has practically worn a hole in the ground outside pacing."

"Morrigan," greeted Kitra. "How did I end up here? I assume this is your home."

"'Tis indeed my home. Mother plucked you from the top of the tower and healed your wounds, so if you are looking for someone to give your thanks to, 'tis not I."

Kitra nodded. "What, exactly, happened at Ostagar?"

“The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Your army, your Wardens, your king… they are dead," said Morrigan.

"Unfortunate," sighed Kitra. "You mentioned my idiot friend. Alistair is still alive, then?"

"Indeed; Mother took both of you from the tower. He is not taking the news of your armies' defeat well."

Kitra ran a hand through her messy, cropped curls. "Of course." She sighed again. "One last question, Morrigan. Do you know where my clothes are?"

"I had wondered if you even noticed your state of undress," said Morrigan, her tone betraying her amusement. From a chest, she pulled Kitra's things plus what appeared to be mismatched pieces of armor.

"I noticed," said Kitra as she sifted through the belongings that Morrigan deposited onto the bed. "I just don't care." She selected the length of fabric that she used to bind her chest and did so before pulling on her shirt. Undergarments, socks, and pants were next, followed by boots and the armor, which took her a few minutes to figure out. Last came her belt, the contents of which had remained miraculously intact.

"Thank you, Morrigan," said Kitra as she headed for the door, "for the information and the clothes." She didn't wait for a reply, instead stepping out into the marsh that Flemeth and Morrigan called home.

When Kitra walked out of the door, Alistair turned and upon seeing Kitra, the frown on his face lightened somewhat. "Thank the Maker you're alive," he said, the relief evident in his voice.

"The Maker had nothing to do with it," said Kitra. "Thank Morrigan's mother instead. She's the one who got us off of the tower."

"I - yes, we should thank you, shouldn't we?" said Alistair as he turned to Morrigan's mother, who was staring off into the Wilds. "We don't even know your name."

"If you know what's good for you," she said without taking her eyes from the forest. "And I have many names, but you may call me Flemeth."

"Thank you for saving us, Flemeth," said Kitra as she turned her gaze to the forest as well, curious as to what Flemeth was so interested in.

"It just wouldn't do to leave Ferelden's last two Grey Wardens to die, now would it? Someone has to stop the Blight,” said the old woman as she finally turned her gaze from the Wilds to examine the pair in front of her.

"But we can't do it alone, just the two of us," said Alistair.

"You took your treaties from me, did you not?” asked Flemeth.

"But they were lost-" started Alistair.

"No they weren't," Kitra interrupted. "Not if someone has my pack."

Alistair picked up one of the two full packs leaning against the hut and handed it to Kitra.

After about a minute of digging through the pack's contents - mostly food - Kitra pulled out the stamped and polished wood case that held the treaties.

"How fortuitous," commented Flemeth.

"So, can we do this? Build an army and stop the Blight?" asked Alistair as Kitra placed the treaties back in her pack.

"Alistair, I'm a mage. An apostate. An army would as soon listen to me as march on their own capitol. Orlais has Wardens, surely. Go to them. Let _them_ raise an army," said Kitra.

Alistair shook his head, seemingly failing to notice that Kitra was cutting herself out of the equation. "Orlais is too far. We'd never make it there and back in time to save Ferelden from getting swallowed up by the Blight."

"It appears that there is only one option," chipped in Flemeth. Suddenly serious, she turned her gaze to Kitra. The old witch had not failed to notice Kitra's particular wording and the meaning behind it. "There is only one option for you, as well."

For a moment, it seemed as if Kitra was going to argue, but something she saw in Flemeth's eyes caused her to back down with no more than a heavy, annoyed exhale.

"If we're going to do this, we should get going," said Alistair, choosing to ignore the wordless exchange between Kitra and Flemth. "We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in."

"Before you go, I can give you one last thing. Take my daughter, Morrigan. She will be of great use to you in the coming months, but you must promise that no harm will come to her," said Flemeth.

"Do we really want-"

Kitra cut Alistair off mid-sentence. "I promise, she won't come to harm with us."

Flemeth nodded. "Very well."

It was at that moment that Morrigan stuck her head out of the hut's door. "Will we be having guests for dinner tonight? Or will it be just the two of us?"

"The Wardens are leaving, and you're going with them," said Flemth.

"Such a sha- What?" Morrigan squawked, stepping fully out of the hut.

"You heard me, girl. Last I checked, you had ears. They need you."

"But-" protested Morrigan.

"No buts, you're going. Go and collect your things."

"Yes, Mother," grumbled Morrigan as she re-entered the hut.

After a few minutes of waiting, Morrigan reappeared from the hut and came to stand with Kitra and Alistair. "Shall we get going?" she asked, stamping her staff on the ground impatiently.

"Lead the way," said Kitra, and with that, they left Flemeth's little hut in the swamp behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry my writing and characterization are shitty.


	12. Insistent Terminology

The first few hours of travel were largely silent, but after a late midday meal, Morrigan and Alistair struck up a conversation. Kitra didn't pay them much mind as their conversation went from curious inquiries to bickering. She had taken over leading at that point, guiding them around places that she knew to have regular darkspawn patrols or that she could actively sense darkspawn near.

At dusk, they made camp in a cluster of ruins that lay along their route north. Lacking tents, the three chose the most sheltered area of the old buildings to start their fire and select places to sleep. Kitra tried to ignore the continued sniping between Alistair and Morrigan as she took it upon herself to make dinner - roasted squirrel accompanied by a bit of cheese and some berries that Kitra had to assure Alistair were not poisonous or otherwise harmful.

"You are traveling with two apostate mages. I fail to see why you only direct your antagonism toward _me_ ," groused Morrigan.

"Kitra is a _Warden_ ," argued Alistair. 

At her name, Kitra looked up from the roasting squirrel she was poking with her knife in an attempt to see if it was cooked through enough to eat.

"Kitra is still an apostate," commented the apostate in question. "I am still a mage outside the Circle, marked for death by the Templars because I persist in living. The Wardens are gone."

"The Wardens are _not_ gone!" insisted Alistair, his tone bordering on angry. "There's the two of us. We may be the only Wardens, but we are still Wardens."

Kitra snorted. "I only agreed to all of this so that I could gain immunity from the Templars. Look where that's gotten me - tainted blood and nearly killed at the top of a damn tower. Now I'm on some mad quest to stop the Blight? I should have run as soon as the thief died."

"He has a name - Daveth," seethed Alistair. "And you would desert like some coward?"

Kitra merely waved away the dead man's name. "I have built my life on running. Call it cowardice if you wish, but I call it staying alive." She sheathed the knife she had continued to hold throughout the conversation before she stood, regarding an irate Alistair with a look of mild annoyance in her grey eyes. Without another word, she walked off into the night.

"Where are you going?" demanded a stunned Alistair as the darkness of the forest swallowed Kitra. He started to get up to follow her, find a way to make her not leave, when Morrigan decided to remind him of her presence.

"She has left her pack and her armor; I do not think she intends to stay away for long." Morrigan paused at the sound of crackling meat over the fire. "And I believe dinner is ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my shitty writing and characterizations skills yet again.


	13. Bear

Alistair's watch had passed and Morrigan was standing guard when Kitra returned, a battered pack over her shoulder. The witch asked no questions as Kitra set the old pack next to her new one and began to rearrange their contents.

"I can take the rest of your watch," said Kitra after a few minutes.

Morrigan nodded and left her place near the fire for the patch of ground she had claimed for sleeping.

When morning came, Kitra was seated in front of the last embers of the fire, eyes closed and perfectly still save for her regular breathing.

"Kitra, you're back," said Alistair. He sounded somewhat surprised.

"Against my better judgment," Kitra replied without bothering to open her eyes.

"Where did you go?" Alistair ignored the nosy templar comment from Morrigan that followed his query.

"My den. I needed to retrieve my things."

"You have a den? Like an animal?"

"Yes." Kitra snorted at the resulting _why am I not surprised?_ comment from Alistair.

"Right." He paused. "What in the maker's name are you doing?"

"Meditating," said Kitra. "Or trying to, rather. Are you finished with your questions?" She finally opened her eyes, fixing Alistair with a stormy-eyed glare.

"Er, yes." said Alistair, slightly uncomfortable under the apostate's glare. "We're ready to leave when you are."

Kitra picked up her things, scuffed some dirt over the embers of the fire, and started walking.

By midday, they had reached the Imperial Highway and continued their journey to Lothering, this time following a beaten path instead of making their own. Such courses came with their own dangers, as they learned on their second day of walking the highway.

The darkspawn came from the woods on either side of the road, fanning out in an attempt to ring in the trio.

Morrigan was the first to act, freezing three darkspawn solid. They shattered when they were struck by Kitra's lightning.

As soon as they were within range, Alistair was bashing darkspawn with his shield and running them through with his sword while they were stunned.

For the most part, Kitra and Morrigan worked together, with Morrigan incapacitating the darkspawn by various magical methods and Kitra zapping them until they fell. If anything got to close, Kitra stabbed it with her knife or punched it until she could safely resume hitting the targets Morrigan left for her.

Midway through the battle, Alistair was joined in his endeavors by a large animal of some sort. 

Kitra supposed that it could be a dog, but it was very large and very dirty. She wasn't given much time to consider the animal, really, because as soon as she spotted it she also spotted darkspawn reinforcements arriving.

When all of the darkspawn finally lay dead on the road, the large animal - which was, in fact, a dog - bounded up to Kitra and reared up onto its hind legs, balancing its paws on her shoulders. Unprepared to find herself supporting almost half the dog's weight, Kitra dropped to the ground.

Alistair edged closer, sword still in hand. Certainly the dog had helped with the darkspawn, but was it truly friendly?

With Kitra pinned into the dirt and muck of the road, the dog barked happily and wagged its stubby tail happily.

"That has got to be the largest mabari I've ever seen," said Alistair, sheathing his sword after seeing that the dog had only friendly intentions.

"That thing," sniffed Morrigan distastefully, "is a dog? 'Tis the size of a bear."

The dog barked again and licked Kitra's face.

"None of that," grumbled Kitra, gently shoving the dog's face away. "Now get off of me..." she trailed off, taking a peek down the dog's belly, "boy."

Obligingly, the dog removed his paws from Kitra's shoulders and backed away to let Kitra up.

"Mabari are amazingly smart, you know," commented Alistair. "They choose their own masters, and I think this one's chosen you."

The dog whuffed in agreement.

"But why me?" Kitra asked absently as she attempted to brush the dirt and grime from her clothing.

Alistair shrugged. "Mabari are like that. Did you run into any at Ostagar? There were quite a few."

"There was one," started Kitra. The hound had come to stand beside her and she found herself petting its head as she spoke. "It was sick. But it was also massive, just like this one." She looked down at the dog, trying to mentally compare the size and appearance of the dirty, scruffy animal before her to the sick, thin one she had helped back at Ostagar. They did seem quite similar. "This could be that same mabari."

At her conclusion, the mabari at her side nudged her thigh so hard that she nearly fell over again.

"I think that's a yes," said an amused Alistair as Kitra shot the mabari one of her annoyed looks. To the dog's credit, it didn't cower in the slightest.

"Are we seriously considering keeping this monster?" chimed in Morrigan.

Kitra shrugged. "He can make himself useful. He fought alongside Alistair well enough."

"And you can't really get rid of a mabari once it's chosen you, short of killing it," added Alistair.

The dog whined and tried to hide its huge body behind Kitra's, largely unsuccessfully.

"He stays," said Kitra.

Morrigan sighed.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Alistair as they continued on their path down the road, the dog falling into step behind Kitra.

Kitra allowed herself a grin. "Bear."

"How fitting," commented Morrigan dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize once again for my shitty writing and characterization skills.


	14. Ophelia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this and the next chapter were taken from a previous draft and edited a bit. It was the only part of that draft worth salvaging.

"Here it is, Lothering. Pretty as a painting," said Alistair as he leaned on the edge of the Imperial Highway.

All three humans in the group focused on the town just up the road, which could be clearly seen from their vantage point on the highway.

"Bear, drop it," commanded Kitra absently as the hound turned to her, his prize clutched between his jaws. With a whine, he dropped the bandit's tibia he had been trying to present to his mistress.

"What? No reaction at all?" asked Alistair as he looked to Kitra. It seemed he had expected her to say something about the state of the little town.

Morrigan snorted. "What is there to react to? 'Tis nothing but a festering refugee camp."

Alistair ignored her.

"I've been here before," said Kitra, uncrossing her arms from beneath her chest. "I used to come here for supplies sometimes." She gestured to the ramp that would set them on the path into town. "Shall we?"

With that, the little group made their way into the town.

Kitra took note that only Templars guarded the town; the actual guards that would have belonged to whatever Bann Lothering answered to were nowhere to be found.

It seemed Alistair noticed as well, for as soon as they sighted the Chantry, Alistair volunteered to take the news of the bandits' demise to whomever was left in charge of the town - likely the most senior-ranking Templar. This left Kitra alone with Morrigan and Bear.

"Morrigan," said Kitra as she fished around in her pack, "could you procure some traveling supplies for us?" After a bit of searching, she withdrew a small pouch that made a distinct clinking sound when it moved. "Tents and the like? I have some other things I'd like to see to while we're here."

Morrigan looked from the pouch that Kitra held out to the merchant near the Chantry who appeared to be arguing with one of the Sisters. "Certainly."

Kitra wasn't entirely sure that she liked the slightly predatory look Morrigan wore as she strode off to do their shopping, but Kitra had a few things that she wanted to look into around town. With Bear at her side, she made her way through town, pausing to speak with an elven family about the bandits before making her way to the bridge that would take her into the more residential part of town.

At the bridge, a small boy got her attention. "Hello miss," said the child as he looked up at her. Kitra estimated that he couldn't be older than six. "Have you seen my mother? I'm cold and hungry and I can't find her."

"No," said Kitra with a shake of her head before kneeling down to the boy's level. "I haven't. Would you like to come with me and look for her? She must be worried about you."

"Mum said I'm not to go anywhere with strangers," said the boy. He reached out to pet Bear, who offered his giant head obligingly. 

"Your mother is wise," said Kitra thoughtfully. She reached into one of the pouches at her waist - of course she hadn't given Morrigan all of her coin - and withdrew three silvers. "Here. Go buy some food and take what's left over to the Chantry. Perhaps if you offer up some coin for their coffers they'll take notice of you."

The boy nodded. "Thank you. You're a nice lady, just like mother." He smiled up at her before running off, presumably to do as Kitra had instructed and buy food.

"You're the first person to stop and help him and not simply pass him by," said and accented voice behind Kitra.

She stood and turned, finding herself facing red-haired woman in Chantry robes. "Oh?" Kitra asked, arching an eyebrow in a questioning look.

"Yes," said the Sister. "Most people have simply glanced at him before shaking their heads and moving on. They couldn't - or wouldn't - do anything to help him."

"What about you?" Kitra was blunt. "You're a sister of the Chantry. Don't they take in orphans of all sorts?"

"We are taxed to capacity, the Chantry can't handle any more refugees," said the Sister sadly. "And who's to say he's an orphan?"

"He's alone in a town that's right in the path of the Blight. Most parents are keeping their children close at hand, ready to flee at a moment's notice. The boy has no one. If he did, at least one parent would be with him." Kitra started walking, crossing the bridge and making her way through the streets of the residential section of town. 

The Sister followed, seeming intent on keeping up a conversation, much to Kitra's mild annoyance. "That is true," she conceded, sounding a bit saddened by the likely conclusion. However, she quickly perked up. "You're new here, aren't you? I haven't seen you before."

"You could say that," said Kitra, who was making her way toward the tavern and doing her best to at least tolerate the inquisitive Sister.

"I am Leliana. Please to make your acquaintance...?" she said cheerfully.

"Kitra," supplied the mage in question shortly.

"Kitra," said the woman as though tasting the word. "That's an unusual name."

Kitra sighed. "I like to think it suits me. I'm not much of an Ophelia or a Mirabelle."

The Sister, Leliana, cocked her head as though trying to consider the tall, boyish-looking woman in mismatched armor as a Mirabelle. Apparently the image didn't fit, because she shook her head soon after. "That is true."

They soon reached the tavern and Kitra pushed the door open, walking inside and straight into a group of armed men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I suck at this.


	15. Another Priestess to Play With

"Well well, what have we here, boys? We've been asking around about a..." The leader looked Kitra up and down, looking momentarily confused. "...woman," he said the word as though he wasn't sure it was the appropriate one, "of this description and no one said they'd seen her, but here she is."

Bear, who had been quietly following his mistress up until that point, growled at the men.

Kitra scowled. "What business do you have with me?" she asked, crossing her arms and fixing the men with a frosty glare. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with them. As it was, her patience was being taxed by the chatty Sister - and she was hungry, a feeling that seemed to occur with greater frequency since she became a Warden.

"You're a Grey Warden, a wanted criminal as decreed by Teyrn Loghain," said the leader. "Get her, men."

Bear sprang, knocking over two men. One was unfortunate enough to bear the brunt of the hound's weight on his chest while the other found himself fighting to keep Bear's teeth away from his throat. The man seemed to be losing that particular battle.

Kitra drew her knife, slashing at any who got close enough and when she chanced a look to see how Leliana was handling things, she was surprised to see the Sister with a weapon of her own. She was momentarily impressed by the way Leliana moved and struck so quickly. The moment was gone when one of the bounty hunters - because that was what they were, really - swung a battleaxe alarmingly close to her head. Kitra got in close to elbow the man in the nose, startling him enough that he paused in his next swing, enabling Kitra to stab him. With him down, Kitra turned her attention to one of the men attacking Bear.

The fight continued for a few more minutes, with Bear making short work of the men in such a small space as the entry of the tavern and Leliana dropping them with speed and grace. Comparatively, Kitra was a bit slower and clumsier with her kills, unable safely use her lightning in the small space and having to rely on her hunting knife.

Only one of the bounty hunters was left standing, weapons down and pleading with Kitra to halt. She turned to him, fixing him with her best glare and allowing a tendril of lightning to jump in her free hand right where he could see it.

He dropped to his knees, eyes wide with fear. He hadn't known he was picking on a mage.

Kitra sheathed her knife and called Bear to heel before walking over to the man, pulling him up to face her by the straps of his armor.

"Mercy," he pleaded as he was hauled up.

Kitra seemed to consider his request for a moment before she dropped him. 

In his shock, the bounty hunter neglected to make use of his legs and fell to the floor.

"Go. But tell your friends that anyone else who comes after me is a dead man," Kitra spat.

He scrambled to his feet and practically flew out the door.

"You are kind, to show him mercy," observed Leliana as she straightened her robes and hair, as both had become somewhat disheveled during the fight.

Kitra shrugged. "I just wanted a messenger." She looked at the bodies that littered the entryway to the tavern and sighed. "I don't think we're going to be welcome here as soon as they come out to investigate."

They stepped outside and walked a few buildings down, trying to look as inconspicuous as people spotted with blood could.

"You are a Grey Warden, aren't you?" asked Leliana as Kitra knelt to check Bear for injuries.

"That is the unfortunate state of my life at the moment, yes," said Kitra absently as she tried to hold a fidgeting Bear in place.

"And as a Grey Warden, it is your duty to stop the Blight."

"According to history, Alistair, and an old swamp witch, I suppose it is."

Leliana appeared momentarily baffled by Kitra's reply but continued anyway. "And you'll need help, yes? I can help. You saw that I am not without skills."

Kitra recalled how Leliana had dealt with the bounty hunters in the tavern. There was more to this particular Chantry Sister than it first appeared, that was true.

"Please, I want to- I _need_ to come with you. It is the Maker's will."

Kitra stood, not saying a word, and after a moment, arched a single eyebrow and folded her arms under her chest.

"I'm not crazy, I promise," said Leliana hurriedly. She tried to look Kitra in the eye, but something she saw in them made her look away almost immediately. Her eyes were harder and colder than they were before. "I had a dream. A vision."

They stood there for a long moment, Kitra with her arms crossed and Leliana fiddling with the cuffs of her robes, which were stained with a few drops of blood from the bounty hunters in the tavern.

"I will not deny help when it is offered," said Kitra carefully. "Even if it does come from strange places."

Leliana looked up and flashed Kitra a smile before taking on a more thoughtful look. "What do you mean, _strange_?"

Kitra gestured to all of Leliana. "You are a Chantry Sister. You can hold your own in a fight and you're asking to join a Warden's mad quest."

"It does sound a bit odd when you put it like that," conceded Leliana.

They continued to walk around Lothering until Morrigan and Alistair met up with them near the northern entrance to the town. Morrigan was grinning triumphantly while Alistair, wearing a grumpy expression, carried their new supplies.

"Oh? What's this? Another priestess to play with? You are too kind," said Morrigan almost gleefully as she drew near and began to look Leliana up and down in an almost predatory manner.

Kitra sighed. "Morrigan, Alistiar; this is Leliana. She will be joining us when we leave Lothering."

"Please tell me this is a joke," said Alistair tiredly. "We're not really bringing a Chantry Sister with us, are we?"

Kitra briefly wondered what, precisely, Morrigan had done to exasperate Alistair so before replying. "I _do not joke_. She's coming with us," said Kitra in a tone that effectively settled the matter with both of her companions. "Speaking of which, we should probably be getting along now. We left about six bounty hunters dead in the tavern. They were looking for Wardens."

Alistair opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut to reconsider. "Well, we've got our supplies. I had considered taking a few Chanter's board jobs for spare coin, but if you're leaving bodies in your wake I suppose it's best that we leave. Quickly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my writing skills are shit and I can't characterize for dicks.


	16. The Man in the Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took me so long to write this chapter because it's a boring part (to me at least) and I think it shows in my writing. But I needed to go ahead and get it over with.

As they left Lothering, Kitra noticed a lone giant of a man standing, rather cramped, in the cages on the edge of town. Curiosity getting the better of her, she approached the cage and stood for a moment watching the man within.

"There is nothing here for you, human," said the giant. "Be on your way."

"You're a qunari, one of the people of the north - Par Vollen and Seheron. Why are you here, in a cage?" Kitra asked, ignoring the giant's earlier comment.

The qunari seemed to actually consider Kitra's question for a moment before replying. "I murdered a family," he said simply.

Kitra arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"The Revered Mother had him locked up. He's been here for quite some time." Leliana filled in the gaps the qunari left out in his brusque manner of speaking. "It's a shame, really. The Qunari are such a proud people. To see one of them caged like this is… sad."

"I hate to say it, but I agree with the priestess," said Morrigan. "It would be a shame to leave him here to starve or be killed by the darkspawn. He could be useful to us."

"He killed innocent people - an entire family!" protested Alistair. "And who's to say he wouldn't slaughter us as well when we let him out?"

"Five to one are good odds," said Kitra to Alistair before directing her attention once more to the qunari in the cage. "What is your name?"

"I am called Sten," answered the giant after a moment.

"Sten, we are on a quest of sorts and we require help. Should you agree to work with us, we can get you out of that cage."

"Oh?" inquired Sten. "And who are you, to be on a quest of such importance?"

"Grey Wardens," supplied Kitra.

"Curious," Sten grunted. "But I doubt the head priestess will part with the key to my cage easily, Grey Wardens or no."

"So this means you’ll help, then?" Kitra asked as she pulled lockpicking tools from one of the many pouches at her belt.

"If you let me out of this cage, I will follow you against the Blight to find my atonement, Grey Warden."

"Excellent," said Kitra as she worked at the lock, her brows furrowing in annoyance as it began to take longer than she'd like.

"Allow me," said Leliana as she pulled a similar set of tools from somewhere in the sleeves of her robe.

Kitra placed her tools back in her belt pouch and watched with interest as the chantry sister picked the lock with ease.

As soon as the cage door swung open, Sten stepped out to stand before Kitra. He stood nearly two heads taller than she, and Kitra was rather tall herself.

"Shall we be going?" Sten asked.

As they neared the Imperial Highway, Kitra furrowed her brow. She could feel the darkspawn ahead, which was odd since it had appeared as though the darkspawn had yet to pass Lothering.

Apparently Alistair felt them as well, because he unstrapped his shield from his back. "Darkspawn ahead," he said grimly. "I didn't think they'd gotten this far, with Lothering still intact." He took the lead as they headed for the Highway.

At the site of the attack, there were many overturned wagons swarmed by darkspawn. There was also screaming, which alerted them to the fact that there were people still alive amidst the chaos.

Kitra shifted to her cougar form, overtaking Alistair in the run for the Highway. Bear was quick to follow his mistress, no matter which form she took. 

The eerie combination of Bear's hunting howl and Kitra's attack scream served to draw the darkspawn's attention from the survivors of what was probably a group of traveling merchants, allowing them to flee or at the very least get significantly away from the impending battle.

Kitra immediately targeted the darkspawn mage that seemed to lead the others. 

While she was occupied, Bear cut off a few of the darkspawn who had chosen to chase the fleeing merchants, blocking their path with tooth and claw.

Seconds later, Alistair, Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan joined the fight. Sten and Alistair waded into the darkspawn and began knocking them around Alistair with his shield and and Sten with his bare fists. Leliana kept to the edges of the fray, picking off those who were stunned by Sten and Alistair's blows. Morrigan stayed even farther out, targeting individual darkspawn with her spells so she wouldn't accidentally freeze or set on fire an ally.

When all of the darkspawn lay dead or dying, Kitra resumed her human form. "Anyone need healing?" she asked, brushing sparking fingers over her own shoulder where a genlock had come after her with an axe.

Alistair shook his head and Morrigan didn't bother to reply. Bear wagged his tail.

"It's just a few scratches, I'm alright," said Leliana as she noticed the little rips in her robes. She then looked to Sten, who hadn't said or motioned either way. "Sten, you were in the middle of all that without any armor. Are you-"  
Sten cut her off. "You are worried? No need, I am fine."

A few survivors from the attack approached the wreckage cautiously. Some thanked the group while others went about gathering what was left of their goods. 

One dwarf merchant even wondered if they desired company along the road, although after learning who they were he quickly but politely rescinded his offer.

After taking a few more minutes to make sure the merchants were alright, the group continued on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is probably the shittiest one yet and I'm sorry about that...


	17. Eat It Raw

They were well away from Lothering when they finally stopped for the night. Kitra took it upon herself to make dinner while Alistair and Leliana pitched tents. After wandering off to find a stream to slurp from, Bear joined Kitra and Sten at the fire, flopping down next to his mistress. Morrigan was left to her own devices, which she seemed to prefer, and had set up her own small campfire on the edge of the group's camping space.

Kitra made sure to make a bigger pot of soup than she usually would - they had acquired two new mouths to feed, one of which was a giant. While she stirred, Alistair and Leliana finished pitching the tents and took seats near the fire.

"What are you making?" asked Leliana as she arranged the skirts of her robe around her legs.

"Soup," said Kitra with the general air of someone stating the blatantly obvious.

Alistair sighed. "What _kind_ of soup, Kitra." Sometimes he wondered if Kitra was purposefully obtuse when it came to conversation or if she was just that way naturally.

"Dried meat and vegetable."

"It smells good," commented Leliana a bit later as Kitra ladled the soup into bowls.

"For someone who chooses to eat about half of her meals raw, Kitra is a surprisingly good cook," said Alistair after he had accepted his bowl from Kitra and taken a few long, loud slurps.

Leliana seemed confused by Alistair's comment. "Raw?" she asked after sampling her own soup.

"I don't always take my meals in human form," Kitra answered before Alistair could. She left Leliana to ponder the implications of that statement and turned her attention to her own soup.

After dinner they sorted out the sleeping arrangements - Morrigan having not anticipated the addition of Leliana and Sten when she bought tents - and selected the watch. Kitra had first, Alistair second, and Leliana third.

Kitra was awake and sitting up beside the embers of the night's fire when Leliana took watch. Kitra made no move to acknowledge the other woman's presence, choosing instead to remain still and keep her gaze focused on a spot far in the forest.

"What are you looking at?" Leliana asked after a while. She had walked the perimeter of the camp a few times and still felt as though she was going to slip back into sleep. Perhaps a conversation would make her feel more awake. "Is there something out there?"

Kitra blinked her eyes a few times and broke the series of deep, even breaths she had been taking for who knows how long. "There is nothing of consequence," she said after a moment.

Leliana couldn't help but notice the way Kitra reacted and how long it took her to reply. "Were you asleep?" She had never seen someone sleep sitting up and with their eyes open, but she supposed it was possible. "Or do you sleep at all?" she added as an afterthought.

"Of course I sleep," Kitra replied with some incredulity at the nature of the question. What living creature didn't sleep? "But not then. I was meditating."

Feeling more awake after a bit of conversation, Leliana took up a patrol of the camp's perimeter, noting only as an afterthought that Kitra remained awake and staring off into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken so long to write this small chapter. Sorry for that. Also sorry for my shitty writing and characterization.


	18. Friends. Sort of.

Four days of travel found the group about half a day from Redcliffe, by Alistair and Kitra's rough estimates. They would camp along the road for the night and walk the last few hours to Redcliffe in the morning, as per Leliana's suggestion. 

With their rations beginning to run low, the task fell to Kitra to catch dinner. No one else had any success in their attempts. Alistair, in particular, had been found wholly inept at catching anything to eat in a timely manner. Leliana had given her best, but by her own admittance she wasn't all that great at hunting without a bow. Sten knew how to live off the land and was quite good at finding edible plant life, but Ferelden's fauna proved to be significantly more elusive to the weaponless giant. As for Morrigan, she seemed to prefer to catch and eat her own food rather than assisting the group.

So Kitra found herself barefoot and calf-deep in a stream with a sharpened spear of wood in hand. Already on the bank, along with her boots and socks, were three sizable fish. She sought at least two more for dinner but a decent candidate had yet to swim near.

"The task could be completed far more easily if you were to assume your lion form and fish with tooth and claw," commented Morrigan. She leaned casually against a tree, watching her fellow apostate with something akin to amusement in her golden eyes.

"I occasionally take pleasure in doing things the hard way," replied Kitra without taking her eyes from the stream. "But more importantly, I don't feel like getting soaked to the skin and having to wait for my clothes to dry out."

"A fair point," said Morrigan.

With neither woman desiring to continue the conversation, they left it there. However, Morrigan did not depart from the stream. Instead, she stayed to watch Kitra's endeavors. 

Over the course of their travels, the apostates had become comfortable with one another's presence. Neither felt the need to fill the silence or ask inane questions, as some of their fellow travelers were prone to. When they did talk, they compared life experiences and magics; for as it turned out, Morrigan was also capable of taking on various animal forms. They also had a similar dislike - or rather, mistrust in Kitra's case - of their companions.

When Kitra finally held up the last catch of the day on her spear, she turned to Morrigan. "Were you interested in fish for dinner?"

Morrigan shook her head. "I have already eaten."

As Kitra set her latest catch with the others and began to pull her socks and boots back on, Morrigan slipped off into the forest. Kitra made no move to stop her or call her back or even say goodbye. Such was how their friendship, if one could call it that, operated. No pleasantries or small talk necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolute shit at characterization and writing emotions. Whoops.


	19. The Bastard Son

As predicted, the group reached Redcliffe just after midday. Just outside the village, Alistair pulled Kitra slightly away from their companions, claiming "Warden business". However, what he had to tell her had very little to do with Warden business.

"Did I ever tell you why I suggested that we go to Redcliffe first?" he started. 

Kitra shrugged. "You sort of muttered that you knew the Arl. Something about him being a good man who might help us." She refrained from adding " _though I don't know why_."

"Well, yes. But did I mention _how_ I knew Arl Eamon?" 

"That never came up." She paused, brows furrowing in mild annoyance. "Alistair, is there an actual point to this line of questioning?"

At the first sign of her impatience and due in part of his own nervousness about the subject, Alistair quickly spat out what he was intending to say. "I'm a bastard. My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle; she died when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in and raised me before I was sent to the Chantry." There was a slight pause while Alistair took a deep breath before launching into his next point - or perhaps it was his main point. "Arls don't normally take in the bastard children of serving girls, but he took me because my father was King Maric. Cailan was my half-brother."

It seemed to take Kitra a moment to process this new information. "Is this going to become a problem?" Her tone was sharp, but not accusatory or angry as Alistair had come to expect from conversations with her.

"Well... no, but it may come up at some point while we're here. I thought it would be best that you knew ahead of time."

She nodded started to make her way back to the rest of their party. Midway she seemed to remember proper social conduct and paused to say a curt, "Thank you for informing me, Alistair," over her shoulder.

As they neared the village proper, they were stopped by a rather harried-looking young man. "Have you come to help us?" he asked.

"Help with what?" spoke up Alistair at around the same time Kitra said "We came to see the Arl."

For a moment the young man looked confused as to who to address, his gaze flicking from Kitra to Alistair, likely trying to decide which of them was the leader of the odd-looking group before him. "You don't know? The Arl is ill and we are under attack."

At the words "under attack", Sten and Morrigan looked at the village around them and path that they had taken inside. The gates were open. No forces waited outside to siege or attack the village. Had the young man lost his head?

"Explain," said Kitra, crossing her arms. Like some of her companions, she saw no evidence of an attack from the outside and regarded the man with some degree of skepticism.

"Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack until dawn. We've been fighting... and dying. We have no army to defend us, no arl, and no king to ask for aid. So many have died. Those left are terrified that they're next."

"Do you know what is attacking you? The source of the monsters?" asked Alistair. They couldn't be darkspawn come up through the castle from beneath; he and Kitra would have felt them upon their arrival to the village. There also would have been more evidence of the darkspawn's corruption in and around Redcliffe.

"I don't know. Nobody knows," said the young man apologetically with a shake of his head. "I should take you to Bann Teagan. He'll want to see you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at this writing thing. Yet I persist.


	20. Bannhammer

The young man led them through the village to the Chantry, where most of the remaining townspeople seemed to be gathered. Able-bodied men and women were outside, either practicing with swords and bows or preparing the defenses around the Chantry. Inside, the young and elderly along with those of the Chantry cared for the wounded and comforted one another. 

Near the altar stood a man who was clearly in charge. He was the only person in the building who was armed, aside from Kitra's group, and the other adults in the room seemed to defer to him. It was this man that their guide led them to.

"Ah, Tomas," said the man, presumably Bann Teagan. "Who are these people with you? They appear to be more than simple travelers."

"No, my lord," said their guide. Tomas, as Bann Teagan had called him. "They asked for the Arl and I thought it would be best that you see them."

"Thank you, Tomas," said Teagan kindly to the young man, who nodded and left the Chantry. He then turned his attention to the group in front of him. "Greetings, friends. I am Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere and brother to the Arl."

"I remember you, Bann Teagan," spoke up Alistair, "though the last time we met I was much younger... and covered in mud."

"Covered in mud?" Teagan murmured thoughtfully. "Ah, Alistair! It's you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news."

Alistair smilled slightly. "Still alive, yes, though not for lack of trying on Teryn Loghain's part."

"Yes, I had heard about Ostagar," said Teagan. "And Loghain's placement of the blame on the Grey Wardens." He shook his head. "It's the act of a desperate man," he said before turning his attention to Kitra and the others. "Are you all Grey Wardens?"

"No," said Kitra. "Just myself and Alistair."

"Everyone else we sort of picked up along the way," added Alistair.

"We came to see the Arl," said Kitra, getting straight to the point. "But the boy said that he was ill."

"Yes," said Teagan. "Eamon is gravely ill." The words " _if not worse_ " were not said aloud, but came across clearly in his tone. "No one has heard from the castle in days, no guards patrol the walls, and no one will respond to my shouts. Attacks on the village started a few nights ago. Evil... things surged from the castle. We drove them back, but not without heavy losses."

"What sort of evil things?" asked Alistair. 

"Some call them the walking dead, decomposing corpses returned to some state of living to fight and kill. They come back each night in greater numbers as villagers are slain." He paused as though trying to push the horrors from his mind before continuing. "With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my pleas for assistance. I have a feeling that tonight's assault will be the worst yet." 

"If there is anything we can do," interjected Alistair, "just let us know."

From the back of the group, Morrigan spoke up. "'Tis pointless to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. We have enough to contend with as it is."

"I agree with the witch," said Sten.

"We can't just leave these people to die," started Leliana, seeming to ready herself for a round of verbal sparring with Morrigan and Sten on the matter.

Teagan looked to Kitra, the other Grey Warden and the only one who had yet to speak on the matter aside from the dog who sat at her feet. "What say you, Warden?"

"We are going to need allies," said Kitra slowly. "The Bann is already against Loghain, but if we leave the people of the village to fend for themselves, provided that anyone survives, they may not be so eager to aid us after. I believe it would be within our best interests at this juncture to stay and lend aid to Redcliffe."

Morrigan sighed. "You do have a point," she conceded.

Teagan looked relieved. "Thank you. There is much to do before nightfall. I have two men in charge of preparing the town - Murdock and Ser Perth. Murdock is in the village square overseeing the construction of our defenses and Ser Perth is watching the castle for any sign of change. If you could, speak to them and see what help they need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately necessary dialogue chapter. Blarg.


	21. Metaphorgotten

After finding out what needed to be done in preparation for the night to come from Murdock, Kitra dismissed her companions to various tasks. Alistair had been sent to Ser Perth, Sten was persuaded to assist the village militia in training, Morrigan was tasked with assessing the goings-on of the castle, and Leliana had requested to lend her aid to the people inside the Chantry. This left the blacksmith who had barricaded himself in his shop and a dwarf who had barricaded himself in his home to Kitra and Bear.

The blacksmith proved to be less of an issue than the dwarf. After assuring the man that she was not, in fact, Murdock attempting to put on on a lady's voice to gain entrance, the blacksmith let her in. She made a promise - perhaps a foolish one, given the nature of the threat to the village - that she would bring the smith's daughter back from the castle in exchange for his aid with armor and weapons to the villagers and her companions. He also found a new collar for Bear, to replace the hound's worn one from Ostagar.

Her visit to the dwarf involved kicking in a door - after getting directions from a villager that she was kicking in the correct door, of course. It took a good deal of persuading and perhaps a bit of growling from Bear to get the dwarf and his guards to agree to aid the village.

Finished with her assigned tasks, Kitra headed to the Chantry to rest before nightfall. Most of her companions were already there, either sleeping or waiting. Kitra settled down next to Sten, as she wasn't feeling particularly chatty and of her non-canine companions, he spoke the least.

However, it seemed that Sten did wish to talk with Kitra. "Warden," he began, "I came to this land with seven of the Beresaad, my brothers, in search of answers about the Blight. We found nothing until we came to the shores of this lake - Calenhad, your people call it. I was the only survivor, though that is questionable because I am now without my Asala - my soul."

Sten was going to continue what was likely to be a "why I'm here" speech, but Kitra interrupted him. "How does one lose their soul on a battlefield, all poetic metaphors about killing and the sight of the dead aside? Do you speak of the loss of your comrades in arms or-?"

It was Sten's turn to cut Kitra off. "Asala is my blade. It was made for my hand alone, given to me the day I was set into the Beresaad. I was to die wielding it. To return to my homeland without it, I would be slain on sight by the Antaam. They would see me as soulless - a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath."

"I see," said Kitra. "To return to your homeland, to complete your mission, you need your Asala."

Sten nodded.

"We're at Lake Calenhad now. Once this plague of undead is dealt with, we'll see what we can do about finding your Asala." With that, Kitra closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, though she did not sleep. Instead, she mentally sorted and catalogued the events of the day - making sure to add finding Sten's sword to her ever-growing list of things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was like trying to get blood from a stone, let me tell you.


	22. Night of the Walking Dead

When the people around her began to stir, Kitra opened her eyes. Her companions and the members of the militia were waking and preparing for the long night ahead. Beside her, Bear stood and shook himself. Kitra stayed sitting, choosing instead to watch everyone else. She was already in her light leather armor, having had no particular reason to remove it while she waited.

She and her companions left the chantry with Ser Perth and his knights to wait on the path that led to the castle. As trained warriors, they were to be the first line of defense for the town when the undead came. Sten and Leliana had even been given proper, if slightly used, armor and weapons for the occasion, courtesy of the blacksmith.

Soon, the scent of death and decay rode in on the night breeze. The shambling horde approached from the depths of the castle. Kitra noted from a distance that a good many of them carried weapons, but only some wore bits and pieces of armor. Most of them were clad like villagers. A few of them were small in stature - children, most likely. The very thought caused Kitra to grimace. 

As their frontrunners neared, a flaming arrow from one of the knights set a shoddy wooden barricade aflame across the path. Unfortunately, however, it failed to do much to hinder the approach of the undead, both as a barricade and as a fire trap. Their enemies didn't seem particularly fazed by being set alight.

They also didn't respond as expected to Kitra's lightning. Shocking them made them pause, but ultimately they kept pressing forward no matter how much she threw at them. With a frustrated sigh, she shifted her form into a cougar. There were noises of shock from some of the nearby knights as she did so, but any thoughts they may have voiced were cut off by more pressing matters - such as the significant quantity of undead, flaming and non, swarming the fighters. 

Kitra positioned herself with Bear, staying out of the heart of the fight and instead picking out single targets to rend limb from limb. It seemed to be the best way to stop them from moving, as they were still capable of locomotion while missing a limb or two - or even with a hatchet buried in their chest, as one particular corpse displayed. Fortunately, it ceased moving once Kitra snapped its neck and was in the process of pulling its ribcage out through its back.

Midway through the night, the stream of undead coming from the castle began to slow. This seemed considerably odd, since it was implied by those in the village that the attacks lasted all through the night, ceasing only with the rise of the sun. Kitra had shifted back into a human and was about to voice her concerns on the matter when a breathless member of the militia came up behind them. 

"They're coming up from the lake," he said between gasps. "We didn't expect these numbers to reach us; our men are struggling."

Before anyone else could start barking orders, Kitra raised her voice to do just that. "Knights stay here and catch what comes out of the castle. The rest of us will aid the militia."

The knights looked at her as if she was mad before turning to Alistair. Since he was the one who had met with them, it appeared that they regarded him as the leader of their companions rather than the shapeshifting mage.

"What she said," said Alistair as he turned to follow Kitra. She, along with Bear and Morrigan, had already started down the path, not particularly caring how the knights reacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoinks! Another chapter!


	23. Service with a Scowl

While her companions joined the fight in the town center, Kitra chose to aid the wounded instead. She trusted the questionably-trained militia less than the knights when it came to being startled by the presence of a giant cat and the likelihood of a subsequent friendly fire accident. 

The militiamen had placed those injured in battle in front of the chantry doors and behind a line of archers. A human and elf pair already assisted the wounded but they seemed quite grateful to have another join them. With only a grunt of greeting, Kitra set to work.

She left the more quickly-treated superficial wounds to the pair of healers already there. Her first patient was a man with a rusty morning star lodged in his helmet and very likely his head, if the blood slowly seeping from under his helmet was any indication. Kitra sent an exploratory bit of magic into him by touching his neck with sparking fingers. 

He wasn't dead or in the process of rapidly dying. His head was a bit rattled from the hit, but his skull was in fair shape. Perhaps a dent or two from the morning star, but the bone wasn't broken and the bleeding was coming from where his skin had been pierced through his helmet. 

With the knowledge that his brain wouldn't fall out, Kitra removed the man's helmet and took a closer look at the wound. She grimaced when she saw flakes of rust in the man's hair near his wounds. From a communal basket to be shared among those lending medical aid, she took a flask of water and a rag to clean the wound. 

True, she could have healed the man magically, but it was likely that her fancier healing abilities would need to be put to use later on men more critically wounded than Ser Concussion who only needed the wound cleaned and bandaged. Once Ser Concussion was taken care of, Kitra moved on to other wounded militiamen. 

A few patients later as she was cauterizing and wrapping a man's severed fingers, she caught the sound of something rapidly approaching though the din of battle and managed to throw her arm up just in time to block a blow from an undead with a sword. Thanks to metal inserts in her vambraces, the blade only left a shallow cut in her arm after getting through the metal instead of a cut to the bone. Irritably she paused in wrapping the man's hand, booted the undead in the chest to knock it to the ground, and crushed its head beneath her heel. She took its sword and removed its limbs for good measure before returning to her somewhat awestruck patient. 

Said patient attempted to point out her bleeding arm, but Kitra silenced him with a glare. She had people to tend to and the cut was relatively minor.

The fight carried on for hours, during which Kitra saw a handful of people die, a few more who may yet die in the days to come, and a majority who would be fine once they healed up. When dawn came, the fighters breathed a sigh of relief. What undead were left had retreated to the castle with appearance of the sun. 

Once the fighters who had lasted until dawn were checked over for injuries, Kitra blew out a sigh and sat down heavily on the Chantry steps. She was covered in blood and Maker knew what else, most of it not her own, and she had used a fair bit of her power to pull some of the men back from the jaws of death and others just to keep them fighting as more joined the ranks of the injured. 

Bear joined her and placed his big head in her lap with a whine. 

"You're fine, I checked," she said tiredly. When he nosed her arm just below where the undead had cut her, she added "I'm alright too."

Bear huffed as if to say he didn't believe her and nuzzled her hand in a request for petting.


	24. I'm Not Saying It's A Demon, But...

"What," growled Kitra as she heard footsteps approaching. She didn't bother to open her eyes, having closed them some time ago as she sat against a wall and soaked up the morning sun; because if the approaching individual were a threat, Bear would be ready to attack. As it was, the hound had his head in her lap and was drooling a bit on Kitra's already exceedingly dirty trousers.

"Teagan wants to meet us at the windmill. He says it's about getting into the castle," said Alistair. 

That caused Kitra to sigh and open her eyes. "Very well. You've spoken to the others already?"

Alistair nodded. "They're on their way up there now. Leliana suggested that I inform you last because you looked like you were sleeping."

"Not sleeping, resting," said Kitra as she stood and attempted to brush some of the dirt and grime from her armor and clothes.

"Call it what you want," said Alistair with some amusement in his voice. "Leliana swears you were napping like a cat in the sun."

Kitra chose not to dignify that with a reply, instead striding ahead of him toward the windmill. 

Once she, Alistair, and Bear arrived, Teagan launched into an explanation of his plan to get into the castle. Beneath the windmill was a secret entrance that ran beneath the lake and into the lower levels of the castle. It was old and long-forgotten, but it should still be serviceable enough. He had just started on his apology for not telling them sooner when something approaching behind the group caught his eye.

"Maker's breath," Teagan breathed, pointing to the road that led into the castle.

Those assembled turned to see a woman running somewhat clumsily down the path, hindered by her skirts and shoes that were rather ill-suited to the task of covering any fair distance quickly.

"Teagan!" she called as she approached, running through the group and stopping just short of said Bann. "Thank the maker you let live."

"Isolde," said Teagan, clearly shocked to see the woman. "You're alive! How did you...? What has happened?"

The woman, Isolde, brushed aside Teagan's questions. "I do not have time to explain. I slipped away from the castle once I saw that the battle was over. I must return quickly; my presence will be missed." She paused and looked down at her hands, fingers twisted together in a fit of nerves, "And I need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone."

"Given what we've seen to come from within the castle, that hardly seems like a wise idea," interrupted Kitra.

Isolde turned to look at Kitra. "What?" She narrowed her eyes, appearing to size up the dirty individual in front of her. "Who is this... this woman, Teagan?" She seemed uncertain of the woman part, given Kitra's present dirty and somewhat androgynous appearance.

It was Alistair's turn to step in, and after clearing his throat to draw Isolde's attention from the thoroughly annoyed-looking Kitra, he spoke. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

"Alistair," she said flatly. "Why are you here?"

"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde," said Teagan. "I owe them my life."

"Pardon me," said Isolde, mostly to Alistair. "I would exchange pleasantries, but given the circumstances..."

"Please, Lady Isolde. We were unsure if anyone still in the castle was still alive after last night. We need answers," said Alistair.

Isolde shook her head. "I do not know what is safe to tell." She looked to Teagan. "There is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead wake and hunt the living. The mage responsible has been caught and caged, but this plague of undead still continues." In an undertone, she added "And I think Connor is going mad. We have survived but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death."

"You must help him, Teagan," she pleaded. "You are his uncle. You could reason with him. I do not know what else to do."

"What about the Arl? Does he still live? Could he reason with this Connor?" Kitra asked, causing Isolde to shoot her a dirty look for eavesdropping on a conversation that was easily overheard to begin with. Isolde wasn't a particularly quiet woman.

"He is being kept alive, thank the Maker, but he is not responsive."

Alistair arched an eyebrow at that. " _Kept alive_? By what?"

"Something the mage unleashed. So far it has allowed Eamon, Connor, and myself to live. The others were not so fortunate. It killed so many," Isolde's voice broke a bit, "it turned them into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village."

"It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you Teagan, but only because I begged. I said Connor needed help."

Alistair's face turned stony at this newest tidbit of information while Kitra's look of annoyance deepened.

"Do you think this could be some kind of demon?" asked Alistair.

"I... I do not know," said Isolde slowly. "Maker's mercy, could it really be a demon?" She began to get panicky, completely ignoring or not hearing Kitra's grumbled _probably_ , "I can't let it hurt my Connor!" She was practically shrieking, "You must come back with me Teagan! Please!"

"I can't be away for too long; it may think I'm betraying it. It could kill Connor! Please, Teagan."

"Lady Isolde, if it really is a demon you'll need more than just Teagan," said Alistair.

"For Connor's sake I must only bring Teagan. I promised that I would return quickly and only with him. No one else may follow; I have to keep Connor safe."

"The king is dead and we need Eamon now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde, and do what I can," said Teagan, ending the discussion.

Kitra scowled. It was a terrible idea, and it seemed everyone knew it but wouldn't do a thing about it.

As Teagan made to leave with Isolde, he placed something in Alistair's hand. When Alistair held it up a few moments later, it was revealed to be a key on a chain.

It appeared that they would be going into the castle after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate these exposition dialogue chapters.


	25. Not In The Mood

A bit of searching revealed a well-hidden door set into the floor of the windmill, which in turn revealed a set of stone stairs that descended into darkness. Kitra was the first down, lighting the way with a ball of condensed lightning produced from her palm. The light was a bit prone to flickering as the lightning darted about but it held its shape and lit the path well enough.

They found it safe to assume that they were under the lake when the tunnel became damp and some sort of fungus started appearing on the walls. It also smelled rather fishy, much to almost everyone's displeasure. Only Bear seemed to not mind it so much. When they finally came to a door, Kitra withdrew the lightning into her palm as she slowly opened it. 

From the other side came clanging and frightened cries. At the other end of what had to be the castle's dungeon, a trio of undead were hacking away at the lock of one of the doors and terrifying the unfortunate prisoner inside. Alistair and Sten were quick to act; it took them almost no time to take down the three particularly desiccated corpses, much to the relief of the prisoner. 

"You must be the mage the Arlessa mentioned," said Alistair to the man in the cell as he put away his sword, but kept one hand on the hilt. "All of this - the undead - this is your doing?"

While Alistair questioned the prisoner, Kitra took a moment to observe her surroundings. It appeared as though the undead trio were getting alarmingly close to breaking the lock on the prisoner's cell door. Kitra figured that she could probably force it open if she wanted to. Fortunately for the prisoner, the undead in the dungeon lacked any sort of decent muscle mass. It must have taken them quite some time just to damage the lock with such flimsy swings.

When she tuned back into the conversation, she found herself standing just to the left of a rather heated debate between her companions. From what she gathered of the words being flung around, the undead weren't the prisoner's fault, but rather the fault of the boy Connor - who just so happened to be a mage, if the prisoner was to be believed. Apparently he also poisoned the Arl on Loghain's orders. 

After gleaning an understanding of the situation, she turned her focus to the individual arguments. Sten seemed to be of a " _kill the mage_ " mind and Alistair wasn't far behind, citing things he learned during Templar training. Meanwhile, Morrigan saw the mage as a useful asset and Leliana simply felt sorry for him and wanted to give him a chance to atone for his mistakes. Bear, being a dog, didn't particularly care what was done with the prisoner and was instead concerned with licking some grime from between his toes.

Kitra, not feeling much in the mood for dealing with the debate, just gave the cell door a good tug. The lock gave with an audible metallic snap, causing four heads to turn toward her. The fifth, belonging to the prisoner, was already watching her and the sixth was still more concerned with his toes - and frankly Kitra didn't blame him, what with the muck they'd walked through in the tunnel and such.

"Kitra, what? Why?" snapped Alistair over Sten's grunt of annoyance at her actions.

"He's in no state to be a threat," said Kitra as the mage carefully emerged from the cell to stand behind her. "I doubt he could even light a candle with his magic at this point. Starved, beaten, and dehydrated he's not likely to do much. However, he can provide information for us as we need it on our way through the castle." 

"But he's an apostate! And he poisoned the Arl! We can't trust him."

"I will mind him," said Kitra in a voice that declared the finality of her decision. "And in the unlikely event that he is a threat, I will get rid of him."

The prisoner, who had been looking quite gratefully at Kitra up until that moment, suddenly looked a bit scared.

Alistair blew out a sigh. There was no point in arguing with Kitra. She looked to be in a foul mood as it was; probably best to not make it worse. Instead, he led the group into the next area of the dungeon.

Kitra trailed behind with the prisoner. Before they had gone far, she unhooked a flask from her belt and held it out to the prisoner. "Drink. I'd rather you didn't pass out; I'd probably have to carry you."

The prisoner opened the flask and sniffed it curiously. "Mint?"

"Water."

He shrugged and took a few careful sips. "Water with mint? You're a bit odd."

"If you don't like it, give it back," grumbled Kitra. 

The prisoner shook his head and drank most of the flask's contents. "Thank you, Lady--?"

"No lady, just Kitra," she said as she took back her flask and put it in its place on her belt. "Come along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this chapter written for a while but couldn't be bothered to post it. Whoops. To be fair, though, I thought I might combine it with the next chapter but in the end decided not to. That one's going to be a handful as it is.


	26. It Came From The Closet

The next area of the dungeon had more undead, these being of the skeletal variety. The easiest way to get rid of them seemed to be disassembly, much like dismemberment had been for the more fleshy ones.

After kicking one to pieces, Kitra handed an intact femur to her charge. "Just hit them with it," she explained at his extremely confused expression. 

And hit them the prisoner did, because as soon as Kitra turned around to face another of the skeletons, one came at him with a chamber pot ready to swing at his head. Thankfully his femur had better reach than the opponent's chamber pot and after whacking both it and the hands clutched around it to the side, he went for the spine. Despite such little exertion, he was panting by the time the skeleton crashed to the ground, its spine shattered and mobility completely gone.

Once the fighting was done, Kitra turned back to the prisoner, scowling a bit when she saw that he seemed exhausted from one fight that involved only minor annoyances. It was understandable, of course, given the shape he was in when they found him, but it was still somewhat frustrating. Carrying him, or even hovering over him, wasn't something Kitra particularly wanted to do at the present time - or any time, really. 

From one of the numerous pouches along her belt, she pulled a strip of jerky and handed it, along with her flask, to the prisoner. "I really don't want to have to carry you," she said in explanation. While it had crossed her mind to re-energize him with her own power, she deemed that hardly a good idea as it may give the prisoner enough leeway to do something untoward. In addition, Kitra was feeling a bit low herself and didn't feel like sharing, especially seeing as how they had the rest of the castle to fight through.

The prisoner shrugged and ate the jerky with no complaint as he trailed behind Kitra up to the main floor.

The main floor, to no one's surprise, held even more undead. Unfortunately, they were of the fleshy sort and required a bit more effort to be rid of than the skeletons below. 

It took a while, but eventually the undead stopped spilling through doorways harass them. The group also stood amid numerous dismembered body parts, save for the prisoner who was dry-heaving in a giblet-free corner due to the intense carnage. Locked in the dungeon as he was, he hadn't been able to witness the goings-on above and was unused to the sight.

Leliana, for whom Kitra was healing a few of the deeper cuts dealt out by the weapon-wielding undead, looked at the prisoner with some concern.

"He isn't injured," said Kitra, noticing the look that her companion was giving her charge. "However, I don't think he's used to bloodshed on such a scale." She paused for a moment to watch the prisoner wipe his mouth. He still looked a bit green at the sight of the dead, but otherwise... "He'll be fine."

As Kitra moved to check over Bear for injuries, the hound instead drew her attention to a slight scuffling coming from a nearby broom closet.

Expecting rats or perhaps a stray cat as being what caught Bear's attention, Kitra threw open the closet door, intending to let Bear play with whatever it was as a reward for a job well done. 

Instead of anything within the realm of what Kitra expected, a young woman let out a frightened screech and toppled backwards over boxes and cleaning implements as the door opened.

Alistair twisted in the chair he had borrowed from a nearby room for a sit and rest. "Another undead?"

"If it's screaming, it's not dead yet," said Kitra as she cast an annoyed look into the closet. She received another terrified noise and a thrown scrubbing brush from the individual within.

The scrubbing brush flew harmlessly by Kitra's head. "Oh honestly," she grumbled. "Come out and stop throwing things."

"We're not going to hurt you," chimed in Alistair. "She might look a fright but she means no harm," he said with regards to Kitra, the only individual within the young woman's likely range of sight from the depths of the broom closet and who was also covered head to toe in the old brownish blood of the undead.

As the young woman extricated herself from the boxes and cleaning implements, Kitra moved out of the doorway to allow the woman, likely a servant judging by her attire, to pass.

Alistair and Leliana were polite to the servant, asking if she was alright and introducing themselves. Meanwhile, Morrigan and Sten waited impatiently. 

"We need to get going," said Kitra over the conversation. She, too, was wanting to get on with purging the castle of undead. "Bear can lead her out the way we came in."

Alistair, Leliana, and the servant all turned to Kitra when she spoke. Bear, having heard his name and his orders, cocked his head and whined. 

"Yes you," said Kitra, choosing to address the dog rather than the people. "But hurry back." 

As Bear trotted to the chatty trio, Kitra pointed at the servant girl. "You follow him. He'll get you out safely."

Once Bear and the servant were out of sight, the group continued in search of Teagan and the arlessa. The large door that the prisoner confirmed led to the next wing was barred, so they were forced to search for another way in. It took a fair bit of poking around, but with the aid of both Alistair and the prisoner, an unused service door in the cellar that led to the courtyard was found. Hopefully they could get in to other areas of the castle from there.

Predictably, the courtyard contained more undead. These were particularly fleshy and fully armed and armored - some of the castle's guard, no doubt. Much to no one's delight, some of the undead even carried crossbows. Fortunately, however, even their best attempts at aiming were only potshots in the general direction of the intruders.

Leliana was able to cripple the undead archers with shots of her own, carefully aimed at hands and arms to make using the crossbows even more difficult.

After getting the prisoner to sit and wait behind a tree and thus out of the general line of fire, Kitra shifted her form into a mountain lion. This time, the prisoner didn't even yelp as his minder turned into a very large and very angry cat and proceeded to tear into the undead with abandon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually forgot that this chapter was complete. Whoops.


	27. Featuring Bann Teagan, Acrobat Extraordinaire

With a grimace, Kitra used a slightly less grimy section of her shirt sleeve to wipe the gore from around her mouth. Her charge emerged from behind the tree looking a bit green around the gills, as per usual, but unharmed. Her companions were also fairly undamaged, much to her relief; she was getting down to the dregs of her power and could feel a massive headache brewing just behind her eyeballs. Healing others wasn't high up on her list of things she could spare the power and concentration for.

"Shall we go in?" said Alistair after testing the door. Somewhat surprisingly, it was unbarred.

After general noises of ascent were made throughout the group, Alistair threw open the doors to the main hall.

No one expected to find Bann Teagan doing acrobatics for a clapping young boy. The Arlessa stood to the side with her few remaining live guards, a look of wariness on her face as she watched the exceedingly strange proceedings.

Their entrance did not go unnoticed, for once the Bann had finished a tumble that was quite surprising coming from a man of his station, the boy turned to them. 

“Ah, so these are our visitors,” said the boy, presumably Connor, in a voice that was decidedly unnatural for a child as they walked in. “The ones you told me about, mother.”

“Y-yes, Connor,” stammered the Arlessa.

“This is the one who defeated my soldiers? The ones I sent to reclaim my village?" he asked.

“Yes,” said the Arlessa again. She was noticeably afraid of him, flinching slightly every time he spoke in that strange tone.

“And now it’s staring at me,” sneered Connor, “What is it mother? I can’t see it well enough.” He pointed to Kitra at the head of the group.

Kitra rubbed her temples. The boy was definitely possessed. 

Behind her, Alistair stiffened. He knew it too.

“This is a woman, Connor. Like me,” replied Isolde.

“It doesn’t look much like you,” observed the boy. “It wears trousers like a man and has short hair like Uncle. Can it fight like a man, I wonder?”

“Connor, please don’t hurt anyone,” begged the Arlessa as she reached for her son.

“M-Mother?” stammered Connor. His voice was normal and he looked thoroughly bewildered. “What… what’s happening? Where am I?”

Isolde dropped to her knees in relief. “Oh thank the Maker! Connor, can you hear me?”

Connor’s features contorted into a look of rage as he turned on Isolde. “Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me.” His voice had changed again, back to the deeper, decidedly un-childlike tone.

Isolde stood and backed away before turning to Kitra and company. “Warden, please don’t hurt my son. He’s… he’s not responsible for what he does.”

Kitra could only sigh tiredly. "It wasn't on my list of things to do today."

The Arlessa just stared at her, not quite comprehending.

Connor, however, seemed to understand. “I wish I could say the same for you,” he spat. “But no!”

“Connor didn’t mean to do this,” cut in Isolde, much to the mild annoyance of her son. “It was that mage,” she pointed to Kitra's charge accusingly, “he started this! He summoned the demon! Connor was just trying to help his father.”

“I did no such-“ started the prisoner indignantly.

“It was your fool child who made the deal with the demon,” pointed out Morrigan.

“It was a fair deal!” snapped Connor, finally able to get a word in edgewise. “Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it is my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do anymore!”

“Nobody,” laughed Bann Teagan, who was clearly not right in his head in addition to having newfound talents as an acrobat.

“Quiet, Uncle!” Connor silenced the Bann before he could say anything further. “I told you what would happen if you kept on shouting, didn’t I? Yes, I did.” He turned to Kitra and the others. “But let’s keep things civil. This woman will have the audience she seeks. Tell us, why have you come here?”

“I came here with the intent to speak to the Arl,” answered Kitra.

“So you’re a concerned well-wisher, then? Why didn’t you say so? You wouldn’t have had to slaughter all of my soldiers on the way in,” said Connor as he paced at the head of the hall. “But now I crave action and excitement. You spoiled my sport by saving that wretched village and now you must repay me.”

“Bugger,” said Alistair as the guards stationed around the room advanced with Bann Teagan at their head. 

“You lot handle the guards,” said Kitra as she broke away from the group. “I’ll get Bann Teagan.”

“Don’t kill him!” protested Alistair, prompting Kitra to sigh and shake her head at him as she charged the Bann, who had acquired a sword and shield, without even bothering to shapeshift.

Her advance was met by the Bann’s shield to her midsection. Kitra was thrown back, but managed to catch her balance before she fell. When Teagan swung his blade at her, she knocked it to the side with her arm guard, immediately making a mental note to stop doing that until she got stronger bracings in them so that they could take a blow without cutting through to her skin. With her uninjured arm, she landed a punch to Bann Teagan’s gut and using her knee, she caught him in the groin. While he doubled over in shock and pain, she brought up her elbow and slammed it down onto his back with enough force to cause him to drop to the ground.

She was able to turn around just in time to notice and duck the swing of a greatsword from one of the guards. Quickly reaching down, Kitra picked up Bann Teagan’s dropped sword and shield. They were far too heavy for her to wield effectively, unused to conventional weaponry as she was. Clumsily, she blocked the guard’s next blow, which sent more pain lancing through her left, already injured, arm. She was fairly certain that the force of the blow had at least fractured the bone. Just as she was about to attempt to block another blow with the sword, the guard was knocked over and pinned to the floor by Bear, back from his errand, who proceeded to rip the guard's throat out.

"Good dog," Kitra said through gritted teeth as she slid her arm out of the shield straps.

Around her, the combat was winding down.

The prisoner had taken to sitting on the Bann with Leliana standing guard over both of them, bow out and ready. 

Alistair was standing over a guard who was significantly charred, courtesy of Morrigan, about to land the killing blow.

Meanwhile, Sten prodded a body with his sword, checking to make sure it wasn't going to get back up.

With the guards dead and Connor conspicuously absent from the room, Kitra’s group reassembled while Isolde ran to Teagan, the only one of the attackers left alive.

“Teagan! Teagan, are you alright?” she asked worriedly as she helped the Bann up from the floor. The prisoner had quickly removed himself from the Bann's person once the fighting had stopped and Teagan seemed to have regained his senses.

“I am… better now,” said Teagan as he stood. “My mind is my own again.”

“Blessed Andraste,” said Isolde with relief. “I would never have forgiven myself had you died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!” She turned to Kitra, who was in the middle of giving her companions a quick once-over for injuries that needed immediate attention. 

“Please! Connor is not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him!”

Kitra finished handing Sten a small pot of healing salve and a few bandages from her belt pockets before she turned to address the Arlessa.

"I do not blame the boy," said Kitra, "but at this juncture I can't see a way to save him."

Before Kitra could say any more, the prisoner spoke up from the back. "I know a way. A mage could travel into the Fade and slay the demon, freeing Connor from its hold."

Everyone turned to him and he shifted nervously under their collective gaze. 

"There is only one issue," he continued after a moment, "it would require a significant amount of lyrium. I can substitute blood for lyrium, but again, I would need a lot of it." The prisoner paused, wilting slightly under the suddenly hostile gazes of Sten and Alistair. "Someone would have to sacrifice their life for the boy."

For a few minutes, no one spoke, weighing the options. 

"I volunteer," said Isolde quietly. "He is my son. I would give my life for him."

"Wait, Lady Isolde," said Alistair. "There has to be a way to get enough lyrium to do this without... without blood magic." He practically spat the words, such was his distaste for the practice.

"The Circle would have lyrium, yes?" chimed in Leliana. "Perhaps we could ask them for their aid in this matter as well as the Blight."

Alistair brightened at that suggestion. "Yes, they would. And the Circle isn't too far from here."

"What will be done with the boy in the meanwhile?" asked Kitra. "Leaving now seems unwise; we may return only to find the whole village destroyed."

"I could stay here," volunteered the prisoner rather hastily. "To watch Connor."

Kitra sighed. "He needs to be more than simply _watched_. He needs to be stopped if the demon attempts to do something through him again." She narrowed her eyes at the prisoner. "I'm not entirely sure that you're capable of that on your own."

"We could leave Morrigan here," said Alistair, causing the aforementioned apostate to open her mouth to argue.

"Morrigan is well-versed in spells that could contain an enemy," said Kitra contemplatively. "She also lacks the - rather dubious at this point, admittedly - protection that being a Warden grants me from the Templars."

Realizing that Kitra did, unfortunately, have a point, Morrigan nodded. "Very well. I shall stay to watch the child."

"Having decimated what appears to be the last of the castle's guard, it may also be prudent to leave a capable warrior to stand guard." Kitra's glance slid past Alistair, who would be necessary to deal with the Circle as both a former Templar and the senior Warden of the group, to rest on Sten. "Sten, can you do this?"

Sten nodded. " I will stay."

"Thank you," Kitra said with nods to both Morrigan and Sten. "The rest of us will leave for the Circle at sunrise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled quite a bit of this from a previous draft, tweaking it where needed. Fun fact: The original had Kitra and Isolde getting into a verbal scrap that ended with Kitra losing her patience and punching the Arlessa in the nose.


	28. Impatience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what went on with Kitra between this chapter and the last, see chapter two of Bits and Pieces. It was written separately from the rest of the fic and doesn't fit in with the flow very well, so it got stuffed over there.

Morning found Kitra waiting at the edge of Redcliffe for her traveling companions, looking more well-rested than she had in days. She was also significantly cleaner than she had been when she left them at the castle after wrapping up business there.

“Maker, Kitra, could you stop running off like that?” griped Alistair as he and Leliana neared. “We can never tell whether you’re actually coming back or not. On top of that, it’s dangerous to be alone out there.”

Kitra pet Bear, who had run to her upon seeing her, while Alistair spoke. When he was finished, she let out a sarcastic bark of laughter. “I’ve been alone for many years. A few weeks of traveling with a group doesn’t make me suddenly defenseless. And I left Bear with you. If I intended to leave permanently, he would have come with me.” She snorted. “I’m not as much of a flight risk as you paint me to be, Alistair.”

“You look like you’re feeling much better,” commented Leliana as she passed both Kitra and Alistair on the path that would take them from Redcliffe to the docks that would grant them access to the Circle.

Kitra merely grunted in response and followed the chantry sister, leaving Alistair to bring up the rear.

After a few hours of mostly-silent walking, Leliana spoke.

“I looked after Bear while you were gone. He is a good dog,” she said. “Aside from the snoring, that is.”

Bear whined as if to plead innocence from the accusations of snoring.

This seemed to amuse Kitra somewhat. “Don’t even try to deny it,” she told the hound, who huffed indignantly in response. A few moments later, seemingly after some consideration, a quiet “thank you” left Kitra’s lips just loud enough for Leliana, who was walking closest to Kitra, to hear.

When they made camp that night, Kitra estimated that they were about a third of the way to the Circle’s docks on Lake Calenhad.

Two days later found them approaching their destination. However, given that it was a few hours after sunset, they stopped at an inn near the docks to rest. While their business was urgent, it was a universal thought between them that the templars probably wouldn’t look kindly on visitors in the dead of night.

At dawn they walked to the docks where a young templar stood next to a rowboat. Presumably, he was the one who had been chosen for ferry duty.

On an agreement made over dinner the previous night, Alistair approached first to speak with the templar about the current situation. The templar, however, was having none of what Alistair was saying.

He proclaimed the tower closed to visitors and questioned the validity of Alistair’s story and Warden papers.

When the argument between the two started to get heated, their attention was drawn away from one another by the sound of rather heavy things hitting the ground.

Both Alistair and the templar looked up to see Kitra, who up until that point had merely stood in the background looking crabby, removing her armor.

“Kitra, what are you-” Alistair was cut off by the thunk of one of her boots landing on the pile of her armor.

“I would like to get this over with quickly, as we have a possessed child and a Blight to attend to,” Kitra said as the other boot came off. “You can stay and argue with the templar until you’re blue in the face.” Her belt was off then, set neatly with her pack. “But I am going ahead. Once you manage to acquire a boat, bring my things to the island.”

With that, she was in the lake - one moment a rather sodden human, the next a cougar paddling at a surprising rate of speed to the island that held the Circle tower.

Bear, ever the loyal hound, was quick to follow his mistress into the water.

The templar appeared to be truly stunned by Kitra’s change in form and was rendered momentarily speechless.

“I didn’t know cats could swim,” remarked Alistair after a moment, which seemed to break the templar’s stunned silence.

“You’re traveling with a maleficar?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the time between updates. I've (finally) gotten a job and it severely limits my time and energy that I have to put into writing. However, I do intend to finish this fic... however long it takes me. I've never quite been inspired by an OC like I have been by Kitra.


	29. OMG Knock First!

By the time the boat reached the island in the lake, Kitra was only slightly damp and playing fetch with Bear using some driftwood on what limited shoreline could be found around the tower.

"Took you long enough," she commented as she retrieved her things from the rowboat, ignoring the glaring templar that sat within. Apparently on the ride over, he had been talked out of asserting his Templar abilities over the shapeshifting apostate. Or, more simply, chucking her belongings out of the boat out of spite.

"Yes, well, we can't all swim over sans belongings. Some of us had to help row a boat with three people and their things in it," grumbled Alistair as he pulled his own pack along with his shield and sword out of the boat. Apparently, the boat ride with one of his fellow templars had worked the other warden's nerves.

Kitra paid no mind to Alistair's comments and, once all of her gear was back in place, looked to the tower. "Do we just walk in?" she wondered.

"It would probably be polite to knock first," said Leliana, only half-joking.

"I don't know, watching an angry apostate break down the door has a certain appeal," chimed in Alistair. "Probably the first time a non-Circle mage has ever wanted to get into the tower."

Kitra snorted and headed for the door. As per Leliana's suggestion, she knocked. When she received no reply, she knocked again - harder. After waiting a minute or two, she shrugged and pushed the door open.

"What in the Maker's name..." Alistair trailed off at the sight that met his eyes once the door was opened. 

A few dozen templars were scattered around the tower's entry room. Some were injured and lying on improvised mats, tended to by other templars. Others sat huddled in small groups talking or cleaning weapons and armor. Some of the more senior templars - these Kitra could tell by the additional armor adornments - were deep in conversation with the templar in the fanciest armor - the leader.

"Knight-Commander Greagoir," called Alistair as he strode up the head templar, "the Wardens have come to seek the aid of the mages, but we were not expecting... this." He gestured to the disorganization around him. There were no mages present, an oddity along with injured templars. Alistair dropped the commanding tone he had adopted to get the leading templar's attention, "What is going on here?"

"Alistair," greeted the elder templar, "Regrettably, we cannot aid your cause. The Circle has its own troubles to deal with at present."

"I can see that," remarked Kitra dryly from the back of the group. "Your mages appear to be missing and your templars have taken a beating."

"Did the mages revolt?" wondered Leliana aloud. "That would explain injuries..."

"Something of the sort," said the templar leader. "Abominations have taken over the tower."

"Delightful," grumbled Kitra, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "First a castle, now a tower."

"Is there any way we can lend aid?" asked Alistair, concerned at the plight of his fellow templars.

The templar shook his head. "We have already sent for the Right of Annulment. Now we only wait and prepare."

"You can't!" interjected Leliana. "There must be some survivors. This tower is large. There could still be pockets of resistance against the abominations - both mage and templar. You can't just let them die."

"I'm afraid I have no choice, miss," said the templar. "It's far too dangerous for my men to search for survivors. It is also unlikely that any non-possessed mages yet live."

Leliana chewed her lip with both thought and worry. "What will we do about the boy?"

"Pardon?" the templar arched a brow at such a seemingly off-the-wall comment.

"Apologies, Knight-Commander," said Alistair. "Allow me to explain. We originally came seeking both mages for fighting the Blight and to aid in freeing Arl Eamon's son from possession."

The elder templar's brows furrowed. "While my templars could aid you in lieu of the mages, we are currently occupied here, keeping the tower sealed while we wait for reinforcements and the Rite."

"That could take weeks," said Kitra. "We don't have the time."

"Unless the tower can be cleared, I am afraid that we cannot help you."

"We can clear the tower." Kitra gestured to her companions. 

"Wait, what?" Alistair yelped. "I'm not saying we can't," he said in a more even tone after a moment of consideration, "but that would be a very dangerous undertaking. Look at what happened to dozens of templars!"

"Dozens of _unprepared_ templars," clarified Kitra. "We have some idea of what we're walking into. "

"We can search for survivors," added Leliana. "And if they're able, they can aid us."

From Kitra's side, Bear let out a confident bark.

The head templar considered this for a moment. "Very well, but I will not consider the tower safe until either everything inside lies dead or the First Enchanter - should he have survived - assures me that it is so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is hard. Sorry this chapter took forever and still sucks.


End file.
